


More than Enough

by Taste_is_Sweet



Series: You Make Me Feel  Like I Am Home Again [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes' Ridiculous Moose Hoodie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Hugs, M/M, Nightmares, OTP: Not Without You, OTP: Till the End of the Line, Post-Mission, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve no, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11118678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet
Summary: Steve froze, then violently shrugged Bucky away. "How could you?" he snarled, clenching his fists like he was about to launch himself into a fight. "How could you do that to me?"Bucky blinked in dawning horror. "Stevie, whatever you're remembering, it was a dream. It didn't really happen." He reached for him again. "Can you—""Don't touch me!"Steve shoved him hard enough to send Bucky stumbling back into the wall. "Don't you touch me." He was crazed with anger, shaking with adrenaline. "Ilovedyou. Itrustedyou. And now you really think you can just pretend nothing happened? Fuck you." He swiped viciously at his eyes. "I don't want you here. Get out."





	More than Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Squeaky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Numb Fingers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9280541) by [prompt_fills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills). 



> After more than a year, I'm finally continuing this series! I want to thank everyone who was kind enough to suggest plots to me in the comments of the previous fic. I loved all the ideas, but RL made it very hard to get up the will to write for a long while. Thank you for your patience. ♥
> 
> This is for my Super Special Sister [Squeaky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky), because she really wanted Steve to be the one getting hurt for once. I admit it was a nice change. Heh.
> 
> This fic refers to events that happen in [An Everyday Kindness](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3334646) and [As Big and Bright as the Stars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3707173).

"You know," Steve said, "today would've been his birthday."

"I didn't know that." Tony came closer, hands still stuffed in the pockets of his overcoat. The air was sharp and cold on the tail-end of a storm— _in like a lion and out like a lamb._ Wasn't March described like that? Or was that April?—and he wished he'd worn a hat or gloves. Something to cut the wind.

Well, really he wished he weren't here at all.

"There are a lot of things you didn't know about him, Tony." It wasn't meant as an insult, really. Just a mild observation with no anger or malice, that still managed to cut to the core.

_(Except, Tony knew Bucky's birthday. He knew Bucky's favorite way to spend it was to sleep in, and that Steve took particular glee in planning spectacular adventures that started at the crack of dawn. Last year Tony had helped Steve set up some kind of stupid camping trip in the Godforsaken middle of nowhere. Bucky had loved it.)_

No, that was wrong. Tony met Bucky for the first time in the missile silo in Siberia. He hadn't even known the man for an hour before he blew off his arm.

Tony bit back the 'I'm sorry' that came automatically to his lips. They were long, long past the point when 'sorry' meant anything. Steve knew Tony was sorry; that wouldn't bring back the dead.

Steve was wearing a light spring jacket over jeans and a pair of sneakers. His hair was longer than the last time Tony had seen him, more like it was when they'd first met and Steve had barely been out of the ice. Tony wondered if the style was a throwback to the few years in his overlong life when Steve had been truly happy, or just the result of him not giving a damn anymore.

Tony understood that. There were a lot fewer things he gave a damn about these days than he had just a few months ago, with the Avengers hanging on to last place in the short list by their metaphorical fingertips. Iron Man still helped save the world, but lately he preferred to do it alone. That way fewer people got hurt. He would always help the Avengers if they needed him, but he tried very hard to make sure they never needed him.

Steve still led the Avengers, after all. With S.H.I.E.L.D. still fumbling to find legitimacy after Hydra, and with Bucky…and with Bucky dead, the Avengers were the only thing Steve had left. Tony refused to taint that for him. He'd done enough, hadn't he?

"Why are you here, Tony?" Steve asked. He sounded tired. He always sounded tired, not that they talked much anymore.

_(Didn't they talk all the time?)_

"The Accords were officially repealed. I thought you should know."

"Oh. Well, that's good. I'm glad. It'll make things easier."

"Yeah. Sure." Tony ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it from the wind. "Like I said, I thought you'd want to know." His breath misted when he talked, and he had the sudden thought that it shouldn't be this cold.

Steve hadn't lifted his head from staring at the words on Bucky's grave, with their impersonal description of the deceased as a beloved brother and son. Tony would have expected Steve to choose something more unique for the man he'd loved his whole life. Maybe no one consulted him.

The dates on the stone said Bucky was born March 10, 1917, and died May 4, 2016. 28 or 99 years, depending on when you stopped counting. Though maybe he was older than that, since unlike Steve Hydra defrosted him from time to time. Did birthdays count when you were just an organic weapon?

_(Bucky never had a choice about anything Hydra forced him to do. That was why Tony never blamed him for what happened to his parents.)_

Tony blinked and shook his head. Of course he'd blamed Bucky. That was why Bucky was dead. Tony had killed him in his fury at Steve for withholding the truth, and in his rage at Bucky for being the weapon. There were no alternate universes where he'd recognized that Bucky was an innocent victim; there were no realities where he'd remembered all his own lies, half-truths and omissions, and forgiven Steve for being human and in love and afraid.

_(He had forgiven him. Of course he'd forgiven him. How could he not?)_

Tony grimaced. Steve always managed to bring out the _(best)_ worst in him. It was the same with Bucky, with his casual selflessness and unthinking decency. That was why Tony had been so adamant about repairing that little toy airplane, because Bucky had said he fixed everything, made it better—

What airplane?

He shook his head, dispelling the palpable memory of him catching a small, broken toy plane that Bucky had tossed to him. Bucky had never been in the Tower, and Tony hadn't been back there since half the team had refused to sign the Accords. He was right where he expected to be: in this dank, miserable cemetery, standing behind Steve at Bucky's gravestone. 

It was small, just a simple square slab in a secluded part of the cemetery. They were partially walled off by trees, hidden from anyone who didn't know where to look. It meant that Captain America and Iron Man could stand there and have something passing for a conversation without worrying about being interrupted, which was nice. But it was also dark and lonely.

Fitting, he supposed.

The silence stretched on. Steve didn't thank Tony for the information, and Tony didn't expect him to. He should go, let Steve have what comfort he could, visiting Bucky's grave on the birthday he'd never get to have.

"You know what the worst thing is?" Steve said suddenly, as if he'd somehow been following the wretched train of Tony's thoughts. He went on without waiting for an answer. "The worst thing is that I can't…" He swallowed, cleared tears from his eyes with that strangely delicate brush of the knuckle of his forefinger. "I can't imagine you killing him. I mean, I know you did. I was there. I saw you destroy his arm and then kick his head." He didn't mention the way Bucky's nose had bled from neural damage, how he'd probably already been dying before Tony's boot ensured it.

Steve took a wet, shuddering breath. "But, I can't wrap my mind around it. I just can't. All I can think of is that we should have been friends, the three of us." He wiped his eyes again. "I know that doesn't make sense."

"You're right. It doesn't," Tony said. _(Except it felt like the truth.)_ "None of this makes sense. Why are you even talking to me, Steve? There's no possible way you could forgive me for what I did. I'm sure as hell never going to forgive _myself_. You kept the truth from me and I…I'd had a really bad day. So I had a fucking _temper tantrum_ and Bucky died because of it. I killed your lover, Steve! I killed my friend!"

The sob that tore through him took Tony completely by surprise, but it felt like the first real, honest thing that had come out of his mouth since he started speaking. _I killed my friend._ Bucky was his friend. One of his best friends. Tony had made that tchotchke box for him, watched movies with him, practiced fighting with him. _Helped save the fucking world with him._ How could he have forgotten that? 

But somehow he had. Or…or maybe what he was remembering never happened. Steve had lied by omission and Tony had let his anger and hurt destroy everything they might have had together. He could never fix this, never make it better. Bucky was dead and he could never take that back.

Tony put his hands over his mouth, wracked with sorrow, guilt and grief. "What did I do?" He sobbed. "What did I do? What did I do?" Steve was gone. The cemetery was gone. He'd done something unspeakable so of course he was alone. He deserved to be alone—

"Tony. Tony, you're not alone. It's all right."

Someone put their arms around him and Tony rocketed upright into their embrace, clinging desperately and still crying. "I'm sorry," he choked out in between wet, gasping breaths. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I got you. You're okay. You're okay. No one's dead, all right? It was a bad dream. A really, really fucking bad dream but you're awake now and it's okay. No one's dead and everything's all right."

"No." Tony shook his head, rubbing his face on the warm, solid shoulder he was leaning on. "No. Bucky's dead. I killed him. I'm sorry—!"

"Whoa, hey!" Tony was pushed away from the warm, solid presence, his arms gently pried off when he tried to keep his grip. "Tony! Tony, look at me. _Look at me._ "

A pair of hands bracketed his head, both gentle and warm, one more solid than the other. They forced him to look up, at the face of the man he'd been hugging so tightly. "Tony, I'm not dead. I'm here. I'm right here."

Tony blinked. "Bucky?"

Bucky grinned at him. "The one and only."

"But…I don't understand. You're dead." Tony gingerly touched Bucky's face. His hair was shorter than Tony expected, though it looked like Bucky had been running his fingers through it instead of washing it for a few days. His chin was carpeted with scruff, and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, underscored by thick, dark shadows beneath the brilliant grey-blue. But they were clear and sharp and _alive_. "Am I dreaming?"

"Not anymore." Bucky shook his head. "This is real, Tony. You were dreaming, but you're awake now. This isn't the dream. This is real. I'm not dead. I'm okay."

"You're really okay?" Tony sniffed, then finally took a look at where he was. He was lying in a hospital bed, though it was about as comfy and pleasant as he supposed they had any right to be. There was an I.V. line in either wrist, and he could feel the unpleasant tug of heart monitor sensors sticking to his chest, and the even more unpleasant tug of a catheter now that he was aware of it. The room was a cheery, hopeful light blue, with a framed print of a painting he actually liked on the wall. "Is this the Tower?"

"Yeah. The medical suite." Bucky stepped on a leg of an overturned chair and levered it upright, then sat. "You've been here a couple days." He nodded at one of the I.V. bags. "That's why you got all that stuff in you."

"Oh." Tony sniffed again, then wiped his eyes with the side of his hand, being careful not to move the needle in his vein. "Is Pepper okay?" He wanted to ask if she still loved him, he remembered the gut-punch of her leaving. But he was too afraid of the answer.

"She's fine. She would'a been here, but the doc kicked her out to go take a shower and a nap, like, twenty minutes ago. I'm here 'cause you having a friend with you was the only way she'd leave."

Something in Tony's chest relaxed and gave way like ice thawing, and he had to breathe through his nose for a while so he wouldn't start bawling again. It was how Bucky had said, _You having a friend with you was the only way she'd leave,_ like their friendship was as much a given as Pepper's love for him. "I thought she broke up with me."

"She didn't break up with you." Bucky put his hand on Tony's shoulder, real and warm. "She loves you just as much as she ever did. Ditto for the rest of us." He squeezed a little before he let go.

"Thanks," Tony said roughly, then had to wipe his eyes again. So much for stoicism. "What happened?"

Bucky made a face, ran his fingers through his hair. "What do you remember?"

"Breakfast," Tony said. He could clearly remember eating Clint's pancakes, teasing Steve about…something. He couldn't remember, but it'd made Steve blush. He knew he'd been with Bucky, Steve, Clint and Natasha, but everything after the call to assemble got murky. He had to fight to get more than a few scattered images. "There was…a woman? She was pissed about something, and she had some kind of gun."

"Mostly. You remember 'Color Guard'? The one you called 'Karma Chameleon'?" He waited until Tony nodded. "Yeah. Turns out she has a sister, who's even better at the magic nightmare paint shit. She called herself 'Nightmare'—original, I know—and tried to bust her sister out of jail. She got a little ticked when we wouldn't let her. You, Steve, Clint and Natasha got hit again."

"I did?" Tony looked at his arms, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. He blinked at Bucky. "Where is it?"

"Your stomach and right side. Mostly your hip and ass." Bucky shrugged apologetically when Tony made a face. "You pushed me out of the way, which meant I got nothing and you got a gallon of it."

"I think I remember that." Tony was tempted to look for the stain on him, but it sounded like he'd have to be naked to see it, and just knowing he was in a hospital gown was exposure enough. Instead he squinted at the fluffy, light blue blanket as he concentrated, trying to coax out the memory of the fight. "Steve…Something about Steve?"

Bucky nodded. "He got hit about a minute before you did. Right in the chest and head before he could get his shield up. He dropped like a brick." Bucky bit his lip and looked away. "I thought he was dead, 'til Nat confirmed he was still breathing. I figured that bitch had poisoned him."

Tony had a sudden, vivid flash of Bucky's terrified scream when Steve fell. "I pushed you out of the way because you were running to him instead of paying attention to the fight."

Bucky winced in guilt, but he nodded again. "I just…I lost it. And you got hurt. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Tony said. "We've all done that, dropped everything to go after a teammate. And you should blame the bitch with the magic nightmare paint. It's her fault all this shit happened."

"I guess." Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even further. "You didn't get as much paint on you, so you were able to get Steve to the quinjet before you went down. You both started shaking and crying in your sleep, but we couldn't wake you up."

"Wow." That explained the I.V.s, and why he was starving, now that Tony really thought about it. "How long was I out?"

"About thirty nine hours." Bucky took a breath. "Steve's still unconscious. Nat and Clint got hit as well, but not so badly. They both were able to stay awake 'til after the debriefing. And even when they went under, they woke up before you did."

"Good," Tony murmured, meaning it. He really didn't want to imagine the stuff of Clint and Natasha's nightmares. "Is Steve okay?"

Bucky shook his head. "Every time he enters R.E.M. sleep it's some kind of fucking horror movie." He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. "The doc thinks he'll wake up soon, but…I don't know." He looked at the print again. "Pretty sure he keeps dreaming about Red Skull's bombs hittin' the U.S. Or fighting me." He twitched a thin, ugly smile. "S'always fucking Hydra."

"Jesus." Tony scrubbed his face, then winced when it moved the needle under his skin. "I dreamed I tried to do the right thing and ended up tearing the Avengers apart." He swallowed. "And that I killed you."

"Yeah, I figured out the last part on my own." Bucky put his hand on Tony's shoulder again, shaking him a little bit. "It was just a nightmare, Tony. None of that shit was real."

Tony nodded vaguely. "Sure as hell seemed real." He put his hand on Bucky's wrist. "Are _you_ okay?"

Bucky blinked at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. I mean, I'm worried as fuck about Steve, but…" He shrugged. "I'm fine. I didn't get hit. I'm fine."

"You're sure you're all right?" Bucky looked exhausted, worn thin and raw the way Tony recognized from far too many of his own nights spent without sleep. He knew the team's Super Soldiers could go much, much longer without rest than ordinary humans could, but still. "You look tired."

Bucky smirked. "I've been up for nearly two days, dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Asgard, and four members of my team being down with not a damn thing I can do about it. No fucking shit, I'm tired."

Tony winced. "Okay, yeah. Never mind, then." At least it wasn't the magic nightmare paint. If anyone deserved his mind _not_ fucking with him for once, it had to be Bucky Barnes. "What's going on with Asgard?"

Bucky shrugged. "Thor's pretty sure the paint both women used is actually Asgardian magic. He wanted to bring Nightmare home with him so his…scientists or whatever could figure out how she got ahold of it. Naturally, the S.H.I.E.L.D. brass wanted jurisdiction. Thor got her in the end, but keeping it from turning into an intergalactic fucking incident wasn't shits and giggles."

"I think I would've rather had the nightmares," Tony said.

Bucky chuckled. "No fooling."

Tony smirked, then clasped Bucky's forearm. "Thanks, for being here when I woke up."

"Thank Pepper," Bucky said with one of his usual big, charming-as-hell grins. "S'not like I would'a volunteered to keep your ugly mug company."

Tony laughed. "Now I know this is real, since you're such an asshole."

"Always happy to help," Bucky said.

* * *

God, he was tired.

Bucky stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall in Steve's room in the medical suite. He wanted to sit, but he was sure he'd fall asleep if he did. He knew he'd have to crash eventually, but he wanted to put it off as long as humanly possible. At least until Steve woke up.

Bucky wanted to be there for him, the way Steve had been though all of Bucky's nightmares, all the dark days while Bucky fought to reconcile who he was with what had been done to him. Bucky would go without sleep for another week if it meant Steve wouldn't scream himself awake to an empty room.

After all, Hydra kept their Asset awake a hell of a lot longer than that.

 _Fuck._ Bucky rubbed his forehead. It was like he couldn't get Hydra out of his brain. Maybe 'cause he couldn't stand seeing Steve so helpless and afraid, kind of like a reminder of how helpless Bucky had been, when they'd had him.

Steve's breath quickened, his hands twitching as he struggled through yet another nightmare. Tony's skin had been stained the granite grey of a tombstone, but Steve's chest, neck and face were Hydra red. He looked like he'd been flayed alive. "Please, Buck. Don't make me do this," he murmured. He sounded so fucking sad.

Maybe Bucky couldn't stop thinking about Hydra because they starred in all Steve's nightmares.

"It's okay, Stevie. You're just dreaming." He risked going closer again, though he knew better than to touch. They'd both lived through too many nightmares—too many regular nightmares—to be dumb enough to put their hands on whoever was writhing in his sleep. "Stevie. Stevie, wake up. It's okay. You're okay."

It hadn't worked the last hundred times, and he didn't really expect it to now. He kept talking anyway, telling Steve that he was all right, that he was safe, that Bucky wasn't going to fight him. Maybe it helped a little; Steve seemed to settle more quickly this time, anyway. Unless Bucky was imagining it, 'cause he wanted Steve to wake up so badly—

Someone knocked on the door and nearly sent Bucky out of his skin. "What?" he said, a little too snarly after he'd yanked the door open a little too fast.

"Nothing! Nobody here but us chickens." Tony had his hands up, eyes wide and a little worried. "We just wanted to see how you were doing. Both of you."

The 'we' made sense a moment later, when Pepper followed Tony inside the room. She was in jeans and one of Tony's tee-shirts, her hair in a neat but hurried ponytail. Tony was wearing practically the same outfit, except his feet were in slippers instead of sneakers.

"We really didn't mean to startle you, Bucky," Pepper said. She put her hand on his arm. "How is he?"

"Same as before Tony woke up." Bucky grimaced. "He might've gone through the nightmare quicker this time, but I'm not really sure."

"I'm sorry." Pepper looked at Steve, quiet now at least, though Bucky knew how short a time that peace would last. "I know he got more of that substance on him, but hopefully his faster metabolism means he'll come out of it soon."

"Yeah, maybe." Bucky turned back to Tony, putting on as real a smile as he could manage. "At least you got sprung, huh? I guess the doc couldn't find any extra brain damage." He put his hand on the side of Tony's head, all exaggerated, big-eyed sincerity. "I'm so glad you're only as dumb as usual. I was worried you wouldn't be able to walk and be an ass at the same time."

Pepper gasped in horrified glee, clapping a hand over her mouth. "That was so mean!" she admonished, then giggled.

Tony just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Armorall. Next time I'll push you _into_ the stream of nightmare fuel from hell. How about that?"

He was joking, obviously, but Bucky didn't feel like laughing anymore. "I wish you had. It shouldn't've been you."

"Hey, no. Don't talk like that." Tony was completely serious now too. "You're my teammate and my friend. It's nothing you wouldn't've done for me—and have, actually—so stop with the guilting and just let me be glad I spared you the fucking mental torture for once, all right?"

There really wasn't any way Bucky could argue with that, so he didn't. "Yeah, all right. Thanks, Tony."

"Anytime, dumbass." Tony hugged him.

Bucky hugged him back automatically. It still felt strange though, sometimes, when people treated him like he was just…ordinary. Not frightening. He _liked_ it, no question. But he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to it.

Tony clapped Bucky on the back a few times before letting go. He took a deep breath, then stretched. "Now that the touching, emotional moment is over, I'm going to get more coffee, take a very long, very hot shower, and not sleep again as long as I live."

"I hear you," Bucky smirked, then of course yawned right afterwards. That made Tony yawn, which was funny. But Pepper looked concerned.

"Have you slept at all?"

"Nope." Bucky shook his head. "I don't want Steve to wake up alone."

"I get that, believe me. If you hadn't been there when I finally woke up Pepper probably would've found me gibbering under the bed. But that doesn't mean you need to vigil all on your lonesome." Tony gestured at Pepper and himself. "We'll totally Capsit so you can grab a shower and a nap."

"Of course." Pepper nodded. "It wouldn't be any trouble. Steve is our friend too."

"Thanks," Bucky said. "But it's okay, really. You two go take care of each other. I'll be fine. I've been awake way longer than this."

Tony blinked at him. Pepper looked dismayed. "That really isn't the point."

"I know. I just mean, this isn't a big deal." He looked back at Steve, grateful that he was still calm. Hopefully that really was a good sign. "If I can't hack it, I'll ask for help, I promise. But I'm fine."

Pepper looked like she wanted to keep arguing, but just let out a breath and smiled instead. "I'll take your word for it, then." She kissed him on the cheek. "Please look after yourself, Sergeant."

"Always do."

Tony snorted, but he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on so he didn't actually say anything. He took Pepper's hand and followed her out into the hallway.

Bucky sighed and let his head drop, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe he was being an idiot. It wasn't like Steve would thank him for doing this to himself. Maybe it'd be okay to ask someone to take over, just for a couple hours so he could take a shower and sleep….

But how many times had he woken up by himself? After the Chair, or Cryo, or during the hell of training, or strapped to a table? How many times had he jolted awake screaming or crying or in terrible pain? How many times would he have given his _soul_ just to have someone there to tell him everything would be okay?

So many he couldn't remember them all. But Steve was never going through that. No way in hell. Bucky would rather die of exhaustion than let Steve wake up from these nightmares alone.

* * *

Steve woke up crying.

He was so quiet that Bucky might not have noticed it if he wasn't paying attention. But he hadn't been looking at much else other than the wide expanse of Steve's back for the last couple hours. So when Steve's breathing changed and his shoulders started to shake, Bucky saw it.

"Steve!" Bucky went to him, put his hand on Steve's trembling arm. The wave of gratitude and relief that Steve was finally with him again threatened to send Bucky to his knees. "Steve, it's me, Bucky. It's okay! It was just a nightmare. Everything's fine. You're in Avengers' Tower and you're safe."

Steve froze, then violently shrugged Bucky away. He rolled onto his back, then sat upright, shoving the blanket off his waist. His painted face looked practically demonic in the soft light, though his eyes were glittering with tears, not malevolence. "How could you?" he snarled, clenching his fists like he was about to launch himself into a fight. "How could you do that to me?"

Bucky blinked in dawning horror. "Stevie, whatever you're remembering, it was a dream. It didn't really happen." He reached for him again. "Can you—"

 _"Don't touch me!"_ Steve shoved him hard enough to send Bucky stumbling back into the wall. "Don't you touch me." He was crazed with anger, shaking with adrenaline. "I _loved_ you. I _trusted_ you. And now you really think you can just pretend nothing happened? Fuck you." He swiped viciously at his eyes. "I don't want you here. Get out."

Steve talking about their relationship in the past tense was terrifying. Bucky ignored the bruising pain in his shoulders, going right back to the bed. "Stevie—"

"Don't call me that," Steve spit at him. "And I told you to get out of here."

"No." Bucky wrapped his hands around the bedrails so he wouldn't be tempted to touch Steve again. "Not without you. Not until you at least tell me what the hell you think I did."

"I know what you did!" Steve shouted. "I'm not making this up! Are you really trying to gaslight me now, you son of a bitch? You accuse me of being part of _Hydra_ and now you're trying to convince me that didn't happen? That you never helped the Avengers arrest me? Never beat me almost to death with your own hands?"

"What?" Bucky breathed, horrified. "Oh, no. Oh, Stevie, no. No. You were dreaming. I would never do that. I would never accuse you of something like that. I know how much you sacrificed—"

 _"Shut up!"_ Steve shoved him again, so hard this time that Bucky hit the door and broke right through it. He tumbled into the corridor, fake wood veneer splintering around him.

He waved off the doctor and technicians when they came running. It was far better if he was the only one who got hurt. He picked himself off the floor, wincing at the new pain blossoming across his back and shoulders. Nothing was broken; it'd all heal eventually.

Bucky backed up a couple steps, putting space between him and Steve, who'd methodically yanked off all the monitoring equipment and pulled all the catheters out (which was one hell of a testament to his fury; those things fucking _hurt_ ). He was pulling on the sweatpants Bucky had brought for him. He refused to look in Bucky's direction, but he kept wiping his eyes.

"Steve…." Steve ignored him. Bucky clenched his jaw. "Can you at least _listen_ to me? Let me talk to you. That's all I'm asking."

"I'm done talking to you." Steve ripped off the hospital gown and left it on the bed, then put on his tee-shirt, motions jerky with anger. He didn't touch the moose hoodie Bucky had brought for him, which somehow hurt more than it had when Steve shoved him into the door. He stalked towards Bucky, pushing the wreck of the door aside. "Get out of my way."

"No!" Bucky stayed right where he was. "Steve, come on! Think about it! If I beat you, why aren't you injured? If you were arrested, why aren't you in prison? And why would I even be here with you, if I thought you were part of everything I hated?"

"I heal fast." Steve's hands were in tight, trembling fists. "And…" He hesitated, jaw working. For a second he looked confused before it darkened back into anger. "I don't give a damn where I am or why you're here. But if you don't get out of my way you'll regret it."

"I know you're not Hydra!" Bucky burst out. "Damn it, that witch got you and you've been having nightmares for goin' on two days! You _dreamed_ it, Steve! For fuck's sake, if you don't believe, me, look in a mirror! You look like a fucking fire hydrant!"

"Bullshit!"

"Will you just _look_ already? Steve, please," Bucky said, begging now. "I love you. I know who you are. And the good, decent, noble man I know—the man I remembered even when I didn't know my own name—I know he could never be with Hydra." He took one step closer, reaching for Steve. "What you think happened isn't real, Steve. I swear, it didn't happen."

Steve's eyes were brimming again, spilling over when he blinked. But he jerked out of Bucky's reach. "I thought I knew you," he said. He didn't even sound angry anymore, just weighed down with weary resignation. "I missed you so much. And I was so happy you came back. And then…." He wiped the tears off his face. "How could you do that to me?"

"I didn't. I didn't, Stevie." Bucky scraped the fingers of both his hands through his hair. He felt more than a little like crying himself. "Will you please just go look in a mirror? There's a bathroom right in there. I promise, if you don't want to…" He swallowed. "If you still don't want me around after that, I'll leave. But, can you please just look, Stevie?"

There was no way in hell Bucky was keeping that promise, but he didn't give a damn about lying as long as it got Steve to finally, _finally_ give Bucky a terse, glaring nod and go into the bathroom and look in the fucking mirror.

Bucky waited, reminding himself to breathe. At first there was silence, cut only by the barely-there whisper of a shocked gasp. And then a moment later the hiss of a tap being turned on full.

Bucky went in, stood in the doorway to the tiny ensuite bathroom, there wasn't enough space to fit two men their size comfortably, even if Steve would allow him closer right now. Steve was standing at the sink with his shirt off, desperately trying to wash the blood red off his face.

"Stop, stop, don't do that!" Bucky rushed in, took Steve's wrist because he'd put down the soapy washcloth to pick up the packaged disposable _nailbrush_ and go at his face with it, for God's sake. "It won't wash off. It'll wear off in a few days, but you can't get rid of it."

Steve stared at him. All his fury was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed incomprehension that made Bucky's chest hurt. "What is this? What's happening to me?"

Bucky took the large bath towel off the rack and soaked a corner under the tap. "Rinse your face before you get soap in your eyes."

Steve took the towel, barely bothering to get the heaviest suds off before he used the dry end on his face and hands. He dropped the towel and turned the water off, then stood looking desperately at Bucky. "Tell me what this is."

"What's the last thing you remember before you woke up?"

"You hitting me."

Bucky flinched. "I meant, before that. What's the last thing you remember before I…." The idea was so anathema he couldn't make himself say it. "Before you got accused of being Hydra?"

Steve frowned, then his eyes went distant. "We were…We'd assembled. There was a fight. A woman." He pressed his lips together, looking at his reflection as if the lurid stain might help. "She had a gun. Just like…" He turned back to Bucky, speaking faster as he teased the memory out. "Just like that other woman. The one Tony named 'Karma Chameleon'. She was trying to bust her out of prison." He touched his face. The contrast between the red and his pale fingers was startling. "I must've got hit. But, I don't remember that. Just you leading a S.T.R.I.K.E. team to arrest me, then attacking me when I tried to convince you the accusations weren't true."

"You were dreaming," Bucky said. He couldn't go closer without crowding Steve in the cramped space, so he risked wrapping his fingers around Steve's forearm. "This paint stuff doesn't work like the other one. This time, everybody who got hit passed out, sooner or later, depending on how much they got on them. You were basically soaked from the chest up, and you dropped so fast I thought she'd killed you." He swallowed, trying not to remember that: how it felt watching Steve fall. He already had more than enough nightmares. "Every time you started dreaming it was a nightmare. A really bad one. You were talkin' in your sleep, the same words you said to me on the helicarrier. You dreamed about the Red Skull's bombs hitting the U.S. a few times. But you woke up right after this one, so I guess that's why you remembered it."

Steve blinked, his eyes welling again. "It was a dream? I was just having a bad dream?"

"Yeah." Bucky nodded. "I know you're not Hydra. I know how impossible that is. You're too good. Always have been. That's why I love you."

"It was so real," Steve said. "I felt everything. I thought…I thought it was true." He turned to face Bucky, stricken. "I felt so betrayed…." His eyes widened. "Oh, God. I hurt you. I shoved you like that—" He hugged Bucky fiercely, pulling him so close their bodies made a single line. "I'm so sorry, Bucky. I'm so, so sorry. Can you forgive me?"

"Yeah. Of course. Always," Bucky said. "But, I'd never think that. You have to know I'd never think that." His voice was rough and small, threaded with the betrayal that he hadn't let himself feel while he was worried about Steve. "You have to know that, Stevie."

"I do," Steve said. "I really do. It felt so real. But, I'm awake now and I know. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"I forgive you," Bucky said, 'cause it was clear Steve needed to hear the words. "I will always forgive you. 'Til the end of the line, punk."

Steve's smirk was wan and wet, but Bucky was so glad to hear it. "I love you, Buck." He hesitated, then added, "You jerk."

Bucky laughed, more relieved than he could hope to say. "Yeah. Just as long as I'm always yours."

* * *

Steve looked up and put his finger over his mouth, smiling silently at Tony as he crept into the room. Tony smiled back, which widened into a grin when he saw Bucky, who had somehow managed to curl himself up on the couch and was fast asleep with his head in Steve's lap. Steve was wearing Bucky's moose hoodie, and he had his hand in Bucky's hair. Bucky for his part wore the friendship bracelet Rodney McKay sent him. It was wrapped around his left wrist, which he did when he didn't want the glowing crystals to bother him.

Bucky still had his tchotchke box, but he barely took anything except the occasional bracelet out of it anymore. Tony, ever curious, asked him once why just the bracelets, and why he chose the ones he did. Bucky had said he liked having a reminder that he was safe, free and mostly whole that he could carry around as long as he needed it. And he just grabbed whichever bracelet caught his eye first, with no rhyme or reason.

There'd been a few times that Tony had eyed the bright, happy strings of jewelry on Bucky's arms and thought about maybe getting one or two of his own.

He lifted the small, stoppered vial Thor had given him, waggling it a little so the red liquid turned momentarily luminescent. "The antidote, as promised," he said as softly as he could. He pulled out the cork and handed it to Steve, being careful not to touch Bucky, in case that woke him.

"Oh, God, yes. Thank you," Steve whispered reverently. He drank the liquid, then winced and gave his head a quick shake. The freaky candy-apple red covering him had already faded by the time he handed the empty vial back. "I really need to thank Thor."

"No hurry. He'll be around awhile." Bucky was pretty much dead to the world, so Tony sat in one of their armchairs. "He finally crashed, huh?"

Steve nodded. "He stayed up last night too, to keep me company." His mouth curled in a way that wasn't really smiling. "I was too worried about nightmares to sleep."

"Insomnia for the win." Tony lay back and stretched his legs out under the coffee table. "You could catch some zees now, though. Nothing's happening." He jerked his chin at the Buckysprawl. "I'm sleepy just looking at him."

Steve grinned at Tony, then looked down at Bucky with so much love on his face that it was like he'd been lit up inside. "The whole thing with the nightmares and Hydra brought up some bad memories." Tony nodded because yes, he knew exactly what that was like. "I want to be awake for him, like he was for me. But you're welcome to stay and sleep here if you want," he added. "You can use one of the guest rooms."

"Oh. Thanks," Tony said, then wondered why he was surprised at Captain America being himself. "But I should—"

He cut himself off, thinking about it. There really was nothing happening he had to worry about. Everyone who'd been affected by the magic paint was cured, the villain was safely in Asgard, and there was no other impending doom on the horizon. Pepper was at work, doing her badass CEO stuff. She'd probably send him several thousand vitally important emails later, but right now he was actually totally free.

And, he could admit in the privacy of his own mind, that worst-case-scenario nightmare of him murdering Bucky had spawned new and exciting bugbears for his nightly torment, no magic paint necessary. The upshot was he hadn't slept all that well, after all that sleeping.

But Tony knew Steve would keep watch over him while he slept, just like he was watching over Bucky, because that's who Steve was. And for once in his life, Tony was going to take advantage of his friend's generosity and not feel bad about it.

"But you should…?" Steve reminded him helpfully, his blond eyebrows in perfect arches over his big blue eyes.

"Stay here," Tony finished, giving Steve a big grin. "I should stay here. 'Cause these armchairs I got you are awesome."

Steve smirked almost silently, then smiled at him. "Sleep well, Tony."

"I think I will," Tony said, and closed his eyes.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> [Numb Fingers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9280541) by [Prompt_Fills](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills) took a scenario that I'd only vaguely considered--that Bucky didn't survive his fight with Tony at the end of _Civil War_ \--and presented it in full, technicolor tragedy. I loved the setup, and how they showed Tony, despite everything, trying to help.
> 
> The only problem was that Bucky was dead. That part really wasn't working for me.
> 
> So I wrote this instead. It also deals, a little, with my discontent after watching CA:CW for the second time. To my dismay, I realized that Tony wasn't just trying to hurt Bucky and Steve in his anger; he was actively, unambiguously, trying to kill them. And I was, like, _WTF?_
> 
> I love Tony. He's one of my favorite characters. And yes, sure, he'd had a _really bad day,_ and then found out something horrific, and _then_ that his supposed bestie kept it from him to protect his boyfriend. So he got really, really mad, like you do, and took it out on Bucky and Steve. Fine. I don't like it, but I can live with it.
> 
> But actively trying to _kill them?_ Nope.
> 
> Not my Tony. I couldn't make it work in my head. So I wrote this.
> 
> (I also have some major issues with Marvel Comics making Steve Hydra. I expect that's self-evident. XD)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Come visit me on [Tumblr!](http://taste-is-sweet.tumblr.com/)


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